The cherry
boughs tossed over their heads full of crisp whispers among their
dark leaves and red fruit clusters. Over across the field, under the
low-swaying boughs, showed the old red wall of the tavern, and
against it a great mass of blooming phlox, all vague with distance
like purple smoke. Over on the left, fence rails glistened purple in
the sun and wind--a bluebird sat on a crumbling post and sang. But
the young men and girls playing Copenhagen saw and heard nothing of
these things.
They heard only that one note of love which all unwittingly, and
whether they would or not, they sang to each other through all the
merry game. Charlotte heard it whether she would or not, and so did
Barney, and it produced in them as in the others a reckless
exhilaration in spite of their sadness. William Berry forgot all his
mortification and annoyance as he caught Rebecca's warm fingers on
the rope and bent over her red, averted cheek. Barney, when he had
grasped Rose's hands, which had fairly swung the rope his way, kissed
her with an ardor which had in it a curious, fierce joy, because at
that moment he caught a glimpse of Thomas Payne's handsome, audacious
face meeting Charlotte's.
Barney had not wished to play, but he played with zeal, only he never
seemed to see Charlotte's fingers on the rope, and Charlotte never
saw his. The girls' cheeks flushed deeper, their smooth locks became
roughened.
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